


Come To My House

by qotgs



Category: South Park
Genre: Bad Parenting, Best Friends, Daddy Issues, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, They're around 15 here, i suck at summaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 16:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qotgs/pseuds/qotgs
Summary: Cartman is distraught. Kenny is a good friend.
Relationships: Eric Cartman/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	Come To My House

It was just after eleven o’ clock. The night was dark and cold, quiet had finally settled upon the tense McCormick household, and Kenny was soundly asleep, when he was rudely awoken by the vibration and light on his crappy flip phone.

“Fucking seriously?” Kenny groaned and rolled over, still half-asleep. He rarely ever got to sleep before at least one in the morning, whether it was because the house was too loud with shouting and fighting, or he was kept up by his own thoughts or whatever shit he had put into his body.

Begrudgingly, he picked up the phone to see who it was. It could be Karen, too scared to leave her own bedroom for whatever reason, in which case he’d be wide awake and over there in an instant. But alas, it was not his little sister.

_Cartman: i’m coming over_

Kenny blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light of the cell phone. Still not fully conscious, he sighed heavily at the message. If he could get this over with quickly, hopefully he’d be able to fall back asleep easily.

_Kenny: no dude don’t, i’m sleeping_

A reply came through almost immediately.

_Cartman: i’m coming, and you better be awake to let me through your window before i get stabbed or molested by the hobos in your ghetto ass neighborhood_  
_Cartman: i mean you probably can’t even afford a lock on your window anyway so i can just climb in_

_Kenny: fuck you dude_  
_Kenny: why tf would you want to come to my house anyway? i’m actually trying to sleep, i’m not gonna get high with you and we don’t have junk food so there’s nothing for you here_

There was a pause. Kenny wished he had an iPhone so he could see if Cartman was typing. After a few minutes, a message appeared.

_Cartman: well you’re there aren’t you?_

Kenny furrowed his brows as he stared at the message, unsure how to feel about it. It was oddly... sweet? Sentimental? Surely he must be misinterpreting it if he thought that, though. Seemingly of its own accord, his hand crept up to the cheap metal BFF necklace around his neck that had somehow held up through all these years. He wondered if Cartman ever still wore his half; it was pretty hard to see under layers of winter clothing. It took him a few moments to think up a proper response.

_Kenny: don’t come_

That should do it. He closed his phone and placed it back on the nightstand next to him.

No more than ten minutes later, the sound of a fist not-so-gently rapping on glass pulled Kenny out of some dream that he immediately couldn’t remember.

“Ay!”

Kenny’s eyes slipped open to see his best friend banging on his window to the point that the frame was practically shaking. He groaned. He shouldn’t have expected Cartman to actually respect his wishes and not come. He sat up to lift the window open. If it ended up broken, he would be in deep shit. And he might be in deep shit if his parents heard someone sneaking into his window. That wasn’t a solid fact, though. When they decided to give a crap about what their children did was completely unpredictable.

After opening the window, Kenny fell right back down onto his mattress and watched, eyes half-open, as Cartman grunted and attempted to squeeze his large body through the opening. It was rather entertaining. Finally, he made it and plopped heavily down beside Kenny. Kenny pulled his legs up, narrowly avoiding being sat on. Cartman was panting and his face was red— half from the cold, half from exerting his extremely out-of-shape body, Kenny imagined. Cartman turned and slammed the window shut behind him.

“At least _try_ to be a little quiet, will ya?” Kenny asked, voice low and dripping with annoyance. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, don’t act all surprised,” Cartman said between huffs of breath. “I said I was coming over.”

“I’m not surprised. Just annoyed.”

“Christ, don’t you have any heating in your house? It’s almost as cold in here as it is outside!” Cartman said, completely ignoring Kenny’s words. Kenny was 90% sure Cartman had uttered those exact sentences several times before. “Give me some of that blanket, Kenny.” His hands grabbed at the thin blanket covering Kenny, partially yanking it off of him.

“Hey!” Kenny finally sat up and smacked Cartman’s hand away. “Seriously, what are you doing here? Go home if you’re just gonna sit here and bitch.”

Cartman shot Kenny a glare, then unexpectedly looked away without saying a word. Kenny raised an eyebrow.

“...Well?”

Still no response. Kenny took a moment to study his friend’s facial expression. His gaze was fixed firmly on the ground, and his thick eyebrows were turned down in anger, but he didn’t have that signature Cartman vicious, almost scary look to him. In fact, he looked kind of sad. At first glance, most people wouldn’t be able to tell that. But Kenny knew Cartman well. Probably better than Cartman knew himself, even. He felt a little bad. Maybe something was genuinely wrong. He sighed and moved a little closer to Eric.

“Come on dude, what’s up?”

Without looking up, Eric responded, “Your carpet is fucking nasty, you know that?”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Tell me.”

More silence followed. Kenny was just about to give up, lay back down, and try to go back to sleep when the other spoke up.

“I just...” Eric started, then heaved a sigh. He rested his elbow on his knee, and his chubby cheek in his hand, glancing up at Kenny for just a split second before staring off into space again. “Wanted to get out, okay?”

_That’s more like it_, Kenny thought. Here came the words Eric wouldn’t dare speak within earshot of another soul. “How come?” He slid a little closer in.

Silence. Kenny tentatively placed a gentle hand on Eric’s arm. He didn’t flinch. “How come?” he repeated, his voice soft and warm. Kenny had to be the most empathetic person he knew, and for better or for worse, that applied tenfold to Eric Cartman. _Probably for worse_, said his logical brain. The emotional, irrational part of him seemed to want him to think otherwise, though.

Eric finally looked directly at Kenny, his glare sharp enough that it seemed it could cut right through Kenny's skin at any moment. _Success. I broke through his shell._

“I fucking hate my mom sometimes.”

“What did she do?” Kenny asked, keeping his tone even and choosing not to cast any judgement until he heard Eric out.

“It’s not what she _did_— it’s what she _does_. Constantly! I hate every guy she brings home. They either treat me like shit, acting like I’m such a goddamn inconvenience getting in the way of getting their fucking dicks wet 24/7, or they just creep me out with the way they look at me! Like they want me to fuckin’...” He trailed off, then picked back up. “Or even worse, they want to be my fucking _dad_. Those ones piss me off the most, I just want to fucking _kill _them. Literally! I mean, it's not like it'd be the first time! And it’s like, all day and night with the nasty fucking sex noises, and I just _know_ they’re smoking crack in there too.” Kenny took this all in, not daring to interrupt. “I’m just pissed off, okay? Even this shit hole seemed like a better place to be.” Eric’s arms were now crossed over his chest. His face was red again, and his knuckles white. Kenny waited to make sure he was finished speaking before saying anything himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Kenny liked Miss Cartman for the most part, but he knew that she wasn’t always the greatest mother in the world. He briefly wondered how different Eric would have turned out if his father had been truly present in his life. “Trust me, I know what a lot of that feels like. You know my parents.” Eric simply grunted in acknowledgement. Kenny leaned ever so slightly closer. “And like, it’s probably because we live in such a backwards hick town, but almost everyone I know has problems with at least one of their parents. So you aren’t alone.” This earned him an unimpressed look from Eric. “I know, cheesy.” Kenny let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. “But everyone else aside, you still wouldn’t be alone, because, you know... I’m here.” He thought he felt Eric shift closer. Must have been his imagination.

It always felt a bit odd to be so open and (dare he think it?) kind to Eric, but at the same time, it was nice. As far as he could tell, he was the only person who could be this way with him without _too much_ risk of being viciously ridiculed, and oftentimes Eric would open up in return, in his own weird sort of way.

“In a way it’s kind of our parents’ fault we’re friends in the first place,” Kenny remarked, thinking back. “Don’t you remember coming over here when we were really little?”

“Yes,” Eric said flatly, “and it was just as shitty back then as it is now.”

Kenny rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder against Eric’s playfully. He couldn’t be bothered to be truly angered by the other’s words, not right now at least. He didn’t move his shoulder away after the bump, and couldn’t help but notice that they were completely leaning on each other at this point. Eric’s head was at such a perfect height below him that he just wanted to rest his cheek in his fluffy brown hair. He restrained himself.

“Yep, your mom would come over, leave you in the living room to play with me, and you broke so many of the few toys I had.”

Eric looked up. “I'd like to think there’s a little more to our friendship than my mom buying drugs from your white trash parents...” he grumbled.

“Of course there is,” Kenny said immediately. “I’m just saying that’s how it started.” He paused, and they both sat in silence for a moment. “I’m sure we would have become friends anyway somehow, though.” He shrugged and looked down at Eric, specifically at the blue eye that had once belonged to him. The reason Eric Cartman was the only person who could truly understand him. “Bad kids tend to stick together, am I right?” he joked, expertly dodging the topic of the more intimate bond they shared that they often avoided talking about.

Eric scoffed. “Bad kids? You’re giving yourself too much credit.” There was the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not claiming to be nearly as evil as you are. That’d be just about impossible.” Kenny yawned and reluctantly pulled himself away from Eric’s warmth, laying back on his mattress. “I really am tired, dude. Are you okay?”

Eric looked down at him, expression unreadable. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

They both stared at each other, neither of them quite sure what to say. Kenny didn’t want to kick his best friend out of his house, but he also didn’t know what kind of reaction he’d get if he asked him to stay. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have sleepovers, but they were almost always at Eric’s house, and this felt like a vulnerable moment— something Eric was never comfortable with. His walls could go back up at any moment and then he’d shut everyone out for days before finally going back to being his asshole self.

“I don’t really want to go back, though...” Eric finally said, his voice quiet and whiny in a way that Kenny found oddly endearing.

“You can stay here,” he said.

Without wasting a moment, Eric kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat before lying down next to Kenny. He put so much weight on the flimsy mattress that Kenny felt he could fall into the dip he was making if he wasn’t careful. And he wasn’t sure he would mind all that much. Kenny found himself looking into Eric’s mismatched eyes as he pulled his blanket up over their bodies.

“Um...” Eric laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Thanks. Even though your house is disgusting.”

This time, Kenny had a feeling the insult was a defense mechanism; Eric couldn’t risk being too sincere. He smiled and held his BFF necklace up in the air for them both to see. The half heart glistened in the moonlight pouring through his window. “That’s what best friends are for.”

Kenny stared up at his hand holding the pendant, and watched in shock as another, larger hand joined his. The two halves of the necklace locked together. For just a fleeting moment, Kenny’s stomach fluttered with butterflies. _So he does still wear it._

“Uh-huh,” Eric said. “I bet this is the most expensive thing you own. You’re welcome.” His hand lowered back down to his side, and Kenny’s followed.

Kenny took one last look at his best friend’s face before allowing his eyes to close once again. His body turned onto its side and he dared to let one arm sling over Eric’s large torso. He fully expected to have it painfully shoved back towards him with an angry remark about ‘that gay shit.’ Instead, he felt chubby fingers ever so slightly wrap around his thin wrist. He was sure Eric would deny it in the morning. He’d probably even act annoyed that Kenny stayed so close to him, but he’d be able to see right through him. Deep down, Eric liked the closeness. It was so obvious. Kenny nuzzled his face into the back of Eric’s neck and finally drifted back off into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I subscribe to the popular headcanon that Eric can remember Kenny's deaths because of his eye transplant.
> 
> This is the first time I've publicly posted a fic in a very long time, and it's pretty much just a drabble that popped into my head while I was attempting to sleep one night. I have so many unfinished fics in my notes, and so many more ideas bouncing around in my head. I definitely want to post more. I've been working on and off on a Tweek-centric oneshot for a long time, so hopefully I can churn that out next.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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